Who Needs Breakfast?
by LoveHGSS
Summary: Emily and Hotch are in bed together. Hotch does something sweet and Emily recalls why he felt the need to. The thing that changed their relationship forever.


**Summary – Emily and Hotch are in bed together. Hotch does something sweet and Emily recalls why he felt the need to. The thing that changed their relationship forever.**

**This story is dedicated to Hotchityhotchhotch (aka – CriminalMusings). If you like any of my Hotly stories, you can thank her, she's the one who converted me over to this amazing pair. This was actually the first one I began writing, and she gave me the line "We're going to have to go to the store". **

**Warning – 18 and over **_**only**_**. Sexual content. Not work-safe**

Emily Prentiss opened her eyes, but quickly shut them as a bright light blinded her. She groaned and put her hands over her face as an extra blocker. A deep, rich chuckle caressed her ears and she couldn't help the small smile that took over her face.

"What time is it?" she asked, shifting on her side so she was more comfortable.

A heavy arm snaked around her midsection, a hard body slowly forming against her back. Emily hummed contently, taking her hand from her face in order to place it atop his large one, which was resting just beneath her bare breasts.

"Six," he responded, using his nose to push her hair away from her neck.

Emily nearly purred as his lips skimmed her sensitive skin, his nostrils flaring as he took in her unique scent.

"Six?" she asked quietly.

"In the morning," he confirmed, placing a gentle kiss just behind her ear.

"Hotch," she breathed out as his rough fingertips began stroking the bottom of her left breast.

"How many times do I have to ask you to call me Aaron when we're alone?"

Hotch's tone was joking, but she knew the seriousness behind it. She grabbed his hand and brought it to her face, tenderly placing a kiss against his palm. He stroked her cheek, smiling against her neck as she nuzzled his hand.

"How can I make it up to you … Aaron?"

"Well," he said slowly, trying to hide how pleased he was she called him by his first name, "we have the whole day because the team thinks we're at some meeting that doesn't exist."

Emily couldn't help the girlish giggle, knowing exactly what he meant.

"Hmmm, and what exactly did you have in mind?" she asked, wanting to make him ask for it.

He surprised her. "Open your eyes," he murmured, his fingertips beginning to blindly trace her jaw line.

Emily's eyes fluttered open, the rising sun still blinding, but she focused on closer items. On the small nightstand there was a silver tray with a plate of pancakes. A wide smile lit her face when she saw sausage links and eggs on other, smaller plates. There were two mugs of coffee still steaming, sugar and creamer off to the side. The thing she focused on the most was the centerpiece, though. It was a crystal vase with a dozen red, orange, yellow and pink roses, tulips and calla lilies.

"I didn't know which was your favorite," he said as though he knew her thoughts.

"Whatever these are," she whispered, so surprised she could barely find her voice, "they're my favorite."

He chuckled lowly. "I thought about calling Reid to ask, but I didn't have time."

"Why would you call Reid? I've never told him my favorite flower."

"He knows everything, it's just fact," Hotch said with a sigh. "Not to mention he's the only one who wouldn't ask questions or repeat the conversation."

Emily nodded, knowing it was true. "When did you get these?" she asked, reaching out and brushing her finger along one of the petals in her bouquet.

"I ordered them last night," he replied, closing his eyes and kissing the back of her neck, loving the fact she shivered beneath his touch.

Her eyebrows came together. "Last night?" she questioned.

"Just after you called," he said hesitantly.

"How did you know I would stay?"

He smiled. "You always stay when you call," he pointed out.

She hummed, thinking. "What about when you call?"

Hotch chuckled. "I never call."

Emily laughed. "You've called me six times in the last three days."

"You didn't answer the first two," he muttered, distracting her for a moment by leaving two wet kisses on her neck and shoulder.

"But why did you order the flowers?" she asked.

"To continue my apology onto today," he whispered against her shoulder. "For the things I said, for how I acted."

Emily smiled. "Aaron," she sighed, "one apology was enough."

And it had been enough. About two weeks ago, they had been on a case in Tennessee, so any kind of 'lovey-dovey' stuff was off limits. But they had been there for nearly three weeks and Emily had been getting little to no sleep without Hotch sleeping next to her, something she had grown accustomed to over the past year. She was pretty sure the team knew, but Hotch and her had been beyond careful. However, they were profilers after all.

The team had been staying in a hotel, each with their own room except Garcia, who outright demanded she sleep in the same room as Morgan because she hated being alone in weird cities. Derek had no objections, and Hotch just looked the other way. Emily had noticed he had a tendency to be a little more flexible where Garcia was concerned. He'd always said it was because he knew no one would ever be as good as Garcia; Emily thought it was because Garcia made him laugh when no one else could.

A few days before they caught him, the killer openly targeted Emily, leaving her picture and a note of detailed ways he'd kill her at a crime scene, and Hotch just snapped. He was angry, raging mad really, and the team could tell something was off. They didn't say anything, but as Hotch followed Emily's every movement, everyone knew something was extremely wrong. It would have been fine, had Hotch actually interacted with her, but he just followed her around, not saying a single word to her. Every time she would ask him a question, he all but ignored her, biting out some retort before going back to what he was doing.

As much as Emily wanted Hotch in her bed, snuggled against her, she was pissed. She blatantly refused to let him in her room the first two nights. Thankfully, he didn't press the issue, but wouldn't leave the hallway until he thought she was fast asleep. Three days after that, she began feeling bad that she was locking him out when he was just trying to protect her. At three o'clock in the morning, she quietly tiptoed out of her bedroom and knocked on the door across the hall – Hotch's.

The door had been ripped open, a disheveled, red-faced man standing before her. His usual neat white button up was wrinkled and half unbuttoned, the striped tie long gone. His dark, wild eyes met hers and Emily automatically took a step back, something she had never done within Hotch's presence. He roughly grabbed her arm and pulled her inside, scanning the hallway quickly before slamming the door.

"Are you stupid?" he asked in a hard tone.

"No," she breathed out. "No, I just wanted to see you."

"Do you understand what kind of danger you are in, Prentiss?"

Emily's eyes widened. He never called her 'Prentiss' unless they were in front of the team. The calm, angry tone was what hit her the worst, though. She could have dealt with him yelling, screaming, but the fact that he stayed so tightly calm worried her. She knew he'd probably lose it within the next few minutes.

"Do you realize," he continued, "that the man responsible for twelve murders could have been waiting outside your door?"

"I just wanted to see you," she repeated.

"You wanted to see me?" he asked harshly. "You risked your life to come and _see me_?"

Emily couldn't find her voice, so she just nodded. She was hoping that maybe Hotch would look at how pathetically horrid she felt and lose the bad temper. She was wrong.

"Do you have any idea how stupid that was?"

She nodded. "Yes," she said meekly. "I'm sorry."

"You are _sorry_?" he spat. "Sorry won't save you from being murdered."

Dumbfounded, Emily couldn't think of anything but to apologize again. "I'm really sorry."

"You just don't get it," he said, his voice starting to rise.

"Yes, I do," she replied evenly.

"If you did, you wouldn't have left your room."

"I don't know why you're getting so mad." Emily looked away from him, no longer able to take his intense stare.

"I've already gotten enough people that I love killed, Emily! I can't handle losing you, too! I just can't!" he shouted, his voice breaking.

Her mouth hung open and she could only stare at him. His eyes were wet and his face had fallen with his declaration. He'd never told her that he loved her, and he had only said it then in a round-a-about way, but it was enough for her. She swallowed her pride, her anger, her fear, and she walked up to her lover. He bowed his head, ashamed for his outburst.

All the memories of Haley dead, of the possibility of Jack dead, washed away when Emily put her hands against his face. He took in a shaky breath, closing his eyes to try to make the tears disappear. But as her scent filled his sinuses, as her body pressed closer, he couldn't stop the images he'd been seeing all week – her dead. His breath hitched and he reached for her, grabbed her. He held her as if he'd never see her again, like he had never felt something so wonderful in his life.

Hotch clung to her as he'd never done before, not caring if his reputation with her was shot to hell. He wanted it, _needed_ it. He nearly sighed in relief as her arms went around his neck, holding him just as tightly. She pressed her check against his neck, closing her eyes and breathing in his manly scent. The events over the past few days, Hotch yelling, the fact that someone wanted her dead, came crashing down around her.

Hotch put his face into her long, sweet smelling hair and nearly lost his composure completely, the knowledge a murderer had put a price on her head suddenly too much for even him to handle. He heard Emily's breath hitch and he held her tighter, not having the words to make it better. He wasn't sure whether it was his outburst or the fact a killer was after her, but he couldn't find anything to calm her as he felt moisture gliding down his neck.

He shushed her quietly, tenderly, and unconsciously rocked her from side to side. He felt like the biggest asshole in the entire world as she completely broke down, her sobs stabbing him through the heart time and time again as they reverberated off the walls. He began making small, comforting circles on her lower back through her grey cotton shirt, not sure what else to do to ease her sadness and her fear.

"I will get him," Hotch vowed to her, his voice barely a whisper, but she heard him. "I will kill him if I have to, Emily. Mark my words, I will protect you even if it would mean my own life."

Emily sobbed harder, incoherently mumbling something in reply. Her knees gave out then, but Hotch held her upright, pressing her so tightly against him that he was sure she would have bruises come morning.

"I'm sorry I yelled," he said when her sobs began to calm.

"I deserved it," she hiccupped.

"No," he said soothingly. "No, Em, I was out of line. I frightened you."

She nodded, but said nothing, not trusting her voice.

"It's because you mean so much to me," he said, emotion coating his voice. "You mean more to me than you know. You're everything to me, Emily; you and Jack, you're everything."

A small, surprised gasp left her and she fought to keep away fresh tears that arose in her eyes at his sweet words.

"Aaron," she whispered, not missing the small shiver from Hotch because she used his first name. "Aaron, you're everything to me, too."

"I love you, Emily," he breathed into her hair.

This time, she couldn't keep the tears at bay. "I love you, too, Aaron."

Hotch pulled back once Emily took on her own weight. He stared into her deep, watery eyes and brought his hands to her face, wiping away any lingering moisture from her cheeks. She chuckled nervously, the look on his face so tender she almost didn't recognize him.

"I mean it, you know," he said, his fingers still brushing at her cheeks. "That I'll do anything and everything within my ability to keep you safe."

Emily nodded. "I know you would," she said quietly. "And I would do the same for you."

Hotch's lips turned up in the corners, a rare smile lighting his face. Emily was able to see it for only a moment before those very lips were upon her own. He tilted her head with his hands, pressing his lips fully against hers, loving their warmth. She melted beneath his kiss, an all too familiar heat spreading from her lips to her stomach, flaring up until she couldn't take the gentleness of his kiss any longer. She nipped his bottom lip, and she felt him smile.

"I think I know what you need, honey," he mumbled just before claiming her mouth again, harder this time.

She sighed in relief as his tongue swiftly slid between her parted lips, slipping between her teeth and into her mouth. He prodded her tongue, but quickly took his back when she reacted. Emily laughed and grabbed his sides, clutching his disheveled shirt and kissing him with such force he had to suck in a harsh breath through his nose as her tongue plundered his mouth, giving him barely any time to act. And then finally, _finally_, they met halfway, lips, teeth, and tongues clashing in a flurry of passion. Emily groaned as Hotch raked his hands into her hair, pulling the strands tight as he easily dominated her mouth.

And he had known what she needed. He had quelled her worries and her fears by making rough, passionate love to her, taking her against wall of his hotel room. She hadn't wanted sweet, and he was anything but, taking her again while they were in shower, shocking her at his ability to once against hold her weight while making hard thrusts into her quivering body.

Hotch brought her out of her memories as his hand began stroking the skin beneath her breast. She blinked away tears that had risen in eyes, her mouth set into a perma-grin. He had dragged her into his place the night before and ravaged her to no end, but suddenly she wanted to _feel_ his love for her.

"Make love to me," she whispered.

"It'd be my pleasure," he murmured, trailing slow line of kisses along her shoulder.

His hand made a slow path to her thigh, coaxing it to slide back and over both of his legs. He gently reached between her legs, gasping as he felt how wet she already was. Emily moaned as Hotch dipped his fingers into her core, teasing her for only a moment before rubbing small circles around her clit.

"Aaron," she gasped. "Don't toy with me, I want you."

He nodded, pulling back just enough to place himself at her entrance.

"Please," she begged as he teased her with the tip of it.

He chuckled deeply but moaned as he slid home, easing his aching cock into her wet, tight pussy. His large hand gripped her hip, silently begging her not to move a muscle. They may have had sex last night (twice) but Hotch was always ready for Emily, always hard and ready to explode the moment he entered her. She stayed mercifully still.

Hotch snaked his arm further beneath Emily's pillow until it fully went around her, giving him access to be able to reach her breast. He flicked her puckered nipple, making her clench her lower muscles, and Hotch nearly whimpered. Emily once again tried to stay still, but he continued to pluck her nipple, sending electricity through her veins.

Once he felt calm enough, he pushed on Emily's hip, only letting himself exit her an inch or two before meeting her halfway to fill her once again. He kept it slow, long deep thrusts into her yielding body, her soaked core welcoming him time and time again. Only when he heard her breathing become heavy did he move with any speed, wanting to take her higher before she fell off the cliff of ecstasy.

The hand on her hip returned to her clit, gathering some of the wetness from where they were joined before Hotch began playing with her again. Emily's breath caught in her throat and only a strangled moan left her as she arched against his chest, his pace now fast and rough, throwing her into a toe-curling orgasm. Her soaked walls clamped down around him, begging him to release. He gripped her breast, his eyes rolling and her name falling from his lips like a whispered prayer as she milked him, his seed shooting into her, his thrusts not faltering until he was completely drained.

Hotch held Emily close as they came back down, their moistened skin sticking together, but he didn't care. She grabbed his hand and kissed his palm, leaving it against her face as their breathing even out. Hotch nuzzled his face into her sweet-smelling hair, closing his eyes and relishing in the feel of her naked body, still connected with his own.

"I want to lay like this with you forever, Emily," he whispered, emotion thick in his voice.

"I wish we could," she replied.

"We could, you know? All day today," he said, gently kissing her neck, causing her to shiver.

"We have to get up eventually."

Hotch snorted. "And why is that?"

"We're going to have to go to the store," she said. "We kind of forgot about breakfast."

He smiled. "We could order in."

Emily giggled. "Oh, really?"

"Yes, really," he said, playfulness coloring his tone. "As your boss, I am ordering you to stay in bed, naked, all day."

"Yes, sir," she said with a laugh, hugging his arm closer to her body.

Hotch smiled, something he had been doing a lot of lately, and closed his eyes, breakfast honestly being the furthest thing from his mind.

_A/N – Thanks for reading! Please take just a moment out to review, please! Thank you!_


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